A Christmas Carol
by DodgerMD
Summary: A familiar story with new protagonists. ;)
1. Chapter 1

**Two things before you continue reading.**  
**First: My mothertongue isn't english, so I again would like to apologize in advance for any weird use of words, grammar or punctation mistakes.**  
**Second: I have absolutely no medical knowledge! Everything you read here is from Wikipedia or plain made-up. I still would ask you to kindly just take these things as given, even if you know they are wrong. The story is just supposed to be for fun and not for medical correctness. ;)**  
**Other than that - _Merry Christmas and enjoy reading!_**

7:33, the radio-alarm kicked in with 'Last Christmas' by Wham. House groaned to himself as he began to stir in bed. He had the feeling, he just had fallen asleep half an hour ago and who knew, maybe it was true. It had been a pretty rough night for him, at some point he had stopped checking the time, also right now the throbbing pain in his leg made him wish to still be fast asleep. Not to mention that horrid song! Since the middle of November he already was tortured with all this Christmas rubbish! All of the sudden everyone loved each other and wanted to help each other, just because of some orphan with a questionable father, born in a stable. He didn't even know what all the singing and reindeers and all the fluffy red and white and green glitter stuff had to do with it. It was the very fest of hypocrites, who spent the year not giving a damn and then suddenly cared for everyone. Bah! Humbug.

His grouchy thoughts didn't quite help with either the pain or the mood he was in, so he came to the point, he might as well just get up.

Taking a deep breath, he so rolled out of bed, supporting his sore leg with one hand. He took a moment to just sit at the edge of the bed and rub at his leg with eyes focused at nothing. It was almost meditation, losing himself in the pain for a couple moments and the wish for it to go away. It wouldn't, he knew and so, ending his little pain mantra with a flinch of his face, he reached for his cane, pushed himself to his feet and limped stiffly to the kitchen.

There the morning didn't exactly get any more satisfying. He had coffee and Vicodin, his usual breakfast, then climbed into the shower and stayed there for a while, in hopes the warm water would sooth some of the pain, until the Vicodin would kick in. No such luck today, so he got out of the shower and into his clothes to get going, maybe there would be some distraction at the hospital.

When he exited the building, he however already found the next annoyance waiting for him. It seriously had snowed at night. Quite a lot, too. Well, they had warned about it, but the people from the weather station usually were as often right as Foreman was cheerful. Then again, today proved, that both might happen.

House sighed. He hated snow. It was cold and wet and deep, it made you have to lift your feet high and that was something jot exactly comfortable to him, not to mention how floors got all slippery due to snow and slipping was also no fun for someone, who already had issues walking on straight, dry ground. And the worst was, it made all kids go crazy!

Almost as if he had called them upon him, a bunch of screaming, laughing kids came suddenly running around the corner. The source was soon found, one of these cheap Santa's, all kinds of stores hired during Christmas, who was standing nearby, ringing his bell and giving out candy from a big sack in front of him. The kids just rushed pass House, not really paying attention to where they went, causing him to slightly stumble backwards, end up putting too much weight on his right leg, which was immediately responded, by a sharp, searing pain, that made him go hot and cold the very same time. He gave a hiss to himself, followed by furiously turning after the kids, once the pain had faded enough for him to turn it into anger.

"What's wrong with you twats? The guy probably just needs the money for booze! Santa Clause doesn't even exist!" He sneered.

"Hey, man, that really wasn't necessary!" a father of one of the kids huffed, while the boys and girls just stared wide-eyed.

"Yeah, it wouldn't be, if you wouldn't find it necessary to tell your kids a bunch of lies, ruining their childhood at some point, once they find out their childhood heroes are nothing, but lies!", House barked back.

The man just shook his head, while the Santa shot him an evil glare. House just gave a little huff to himself, shook his head and limped off towards his car.


	2. Chapter 2

House reached the hospital after about double the time he would usually need to get there, because snow didn't just make the kids go crazy, but also traffic. So his mood hadn't exactly gotten any better, when he finally came limping into the lobby of Princeton Plainsboro hospital. His leg was still hurting, the Vicodin had at least finally helped some, but it apparently would be one of those days, where not even the Codeine was able to take away most of the pain. As if that wasn't enough, the ever annoying spirit of Christmas, that lingered all over Jersey these days, even continued stalking him here. The lobby was nicely decorated, as if the sick people coming here would really care about it, along with the Christmas songs which were silently playing in the background, would cheer anybody up. It definitely didn't work on House, who merely scoffed to himself, as he went on, heading for the elevator, where he heard the cheering of children for the second time today, as he waited for the doors to open.

Turning his head, he found a Santa standing over at the waiting area, where the biggest Christmas tree was placed, giving out little gifts to a bunch of sick little children. Apparently Cuddy also had hired herself one of these, well, somehow they had to pay for their booze and drugs, hadn't they? Dressing up for bold little kids that would soon go toes up was probably better than begging in front of Walmart hoping for moms feeling the need to show their spoiled little brats charity by tossing a coin for a beggar.

It was just when House was musing, that all of the sudden the Santa lifted his head and turned to look from the kids straight at him! House lifted both his brows in surprise, when he saw a glare behind the beard and hat. Could it be the same guy? No, that was just ridiculous.

The elevator's doors opened and House stepped inside, still feeling the glare on him. Nah, it probably was just one of the colleagues, who had felt the need to play Santa, after all, whom he had annoyed more than once already. Which was pretty much everyone in this hospital.

Taking that silly thought as a result of his tiredness and the pain he was in, House continued on to his office, once the elevator had reached its destination. He already was looking forward to a nice nap in his chair, when to his great dismay, he found Cuddy standing in his office. She was leaning against his desk, arms crossed, brows raised, a woman ready to stand her ground, unlike House today, who very much wanted to stop standing all together.

"What?" he groaned, not caring to hide the annoyance in his tone.

"Clinic duty." Cuddy replied quite as simple and also making no secret about the order in her tone.

"My leg hurts." House continued their no-more-than-necessary conversation.

"It always hurts, that's no reason." Cuddy cocked a brow, unimpressed.

"It hurts more than usual. I need to sit down." House returned flatly.

"Then sit down in a consulting room. You are also a whole lot more behind your clinic duty and holidays are approaching, people want to have days off, you have many days to work, now go down and work." Cuddy stayed cold as iron.

House paused, glaring at her in his most evil, unforgiving way, the way that told she would pay for this eventually, would she really make him do this.

Cuddy just glared back, taking his unspoken threat with eyes that told him this time she would fight.

He huffed and without any further word turned around again and limped off once more, assuming she would probably keep standing in his office for another ten minutes, just to make sure he wouldn't return. Well, he had not lied about the pain and since he did not want to stand another ten minutes and wait, he as well could go down to the clinic and have his revenge later.

"Woah, hey, where are you going with that face on? Should I better hide the virgins?" Wilson's voice made him snap out of his gruff musings.

His friend was just exiting his office, wearing a red tie with a Christmas tree on it.

"Are you serious?" House just said, knowing Wilson knew what he meant.

"What? Can I not appreciate Christmas, because I'm a Jew?" Wilson returned.

"Well, it's kinda ironic to celebrate his birth, when you guys killed the guy a couple years later." House stopped.

"You're being cynical . . ." Wilson shook his head lightly.

"You're being hypocritical." House answered, followed by furrowing his brows, "Why are you locking your office?" he asked, while waiting for Wilson, who first looked for for the right key and then turned it around twice.

"Because somebody repeatedly has gotten into my office, while I wasn't there and either stolen my food or pulled a prank on me." Wilson looked over his shoulder, this actually made a tiny little smile shortly appear on House's lips.

With a nod of his head, Wilson then turned to the elevator, House at his side.

"Let me guess, Cuddy slapped clinic duty on you?" Wilson assumed.

"Yep. She knows she's gonna pay for it." House shook his head.

"Oh, come on, can't you show least a tiny bit of Christmas Spirit? She really needs everybody she can get down there, people want to take their holidays and the same time more people than usual come to the clinic during the holidays and you, my friend, care as little about Christmas as you always tell me I actually should. It doesn't matter, if you're down there or not." Wilson stated.

House rolled his eyes,

"First, you really shouldn't care less about Christmas and second, yes, I don't give a shit about Christmas, but that makes me want to go down there even less, I mean, have you already been there? It's like Christmas purgatory and hypocrisy heaven the same time!" House mocked.

"Okay, I maybe do not celebrate Christmas per se, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate people actually taking the time to care for each other and show affection? Even if it's just once a year?" Wilson didn't quite give up, House just gave a bitter laugh.

"Oh, stop it, Wilson! They pretend to care for a couple weeks once a year and afterwards they give less than shit about all those poor, poor sick people and little cripples and whatever! It's nothing, but some hypocritically humbug and I definitely don't need anything off it."

"You're such a pessimist." Wilson shook his head.

"I'm a realist." House shortly lifted both his brows cockily.

"You're just being grouchy and letting your frustration out on everyone else. If you keep going like this, you'll end up visited by three ghosts one night." Wilson returned, folding his arms.

"Ohhhh, now stop it, Marley! If I see a funny doorknob, I will know, who put it there." House gave back, clearly getting Wilson's reference on Dickens' A Christmas Carol and returning it with one of his own.

Just that moment the elevator door opened, House turned to step inside, when suddenly, among the people inside, he stood. Santa! House hardly could see anything of the face, which was mostly hidden by the fake beard, eyebrows and hat, but he saw the glare Santa shot him. Directed straight at him.

He took a swaying step backwards, which made Wilson immediately lift his arms out of reflex, House just keeping to stare, while the door closed again.

"You okay?" Wilson asked, returning House to reality.

He turned to look at Wilson, saw his arms and gave an ungrateful huff,

"What's that supposed to be? You wanna hug me, so my heart grows three numbers? I'm really sorry, but I'm perfectly fine with my size, if you get what I mean?" he mocked with a wink,

"And I gladly leave aaall the Christmas hypocrisy to experts such as you." House added, pushing pass Wilson, when the second elevator's doors opened. From inside he shot Wilson a quick glance, seeing him roll his eyes some, then the doors closed.


	3. Chapter 3

House arrived at the clinic and just like he had assumed, found himself in Christmas purgatory. Like that he actually, for once was glad, that the nurses already were ready to bury him underneath the papers of waiting patients that crowded the waiting area even more than usual. It was no big surprise to him though, that even in the shape of the patients, he continued being haunted by the ever-so-present spirit of Christmas.

His first patient was a little girl, who had had so much raw cookie dough, she now was puking her soul out, next was a man, who had slipped off the ladder, while trying to fix some Christmas decorations and broken two fingers, then there were two boys, who had had a wild sleigh race and eventually ended up hugging a tree, earning them both a mild concussion for Christmas, then came a baby with a bloody hand, because it's parents were blessedly stupid and had given a 2-year-old a Christmas ornament, which had been immediately squished to hundreds of beautiful, sparkling, bloody shards. House eventually felt himself very much proven, that Christmas brought not just out the hypocrite in everyone, but also the finest of idiot.

Already guessing for a candle having burned off someone's hair or an electric burning from some decoration-lights, House entered the next consulting room. Just to find Him there! Santa!

He took a stumbling step back out of unpleasant surprise, when Santa said,

"Woaaah, dude. You're already the second one scared if me today."

It was just then, that House noticed the beard pulled down over the man's chin, the paper towel in his hand and the blood dripping from his nose. That definitely was not the same guy. The young man appeared no older than 25, with that air if a chilled-out student around him.

"What happened? Brought the wrong gifts?" House asked.

The young man just laughed,

"Nah, y'know, I'm being Santa in that mall, earns you some bucks easier than waiting at the diner..."

"Not to mention the little brats bashing your nose in ..." House added.

"Ahh, that wasn't the kid's fault. He was scared, but his mom still wanted him to sit on my lap, little guy didn't know what to do, so when I asked him what he wanted, he punched me straight in the face." the young man shrugged with an amused expression.

"Precious." House stated sarcastically.

"Most of the kids are really super sweet. And its Christmas, that little mishap ain't gonna ruin my mood." the young man continued smiling, House only could roll his eyes somewhat to himself, the young man however seemed to notice though and added,

"You maybe should try some Christmas spirit too, doc. Might do you goo-ouch!" he stopped mid-sentence, when House pressed two fingers on both sides of the man's nose.

"Your nose is broken. Merry Christmas." House said cynically, "I'm gonna get you an x-ray and an appointment with a colleague." with that he got up and left the room.

Turning in the patient's papers, House turned around with the intention to leave, this definitely had already been enough stupidity and Christmas humbug for one day. However, just when he turned around he suddenly saw Him standing there again! Not the young man from before, this definitely was The Santa, glaring right at him from across the corridor, only a couple feet away. House took a start backwards, lost balance, smacked against a door behind him and stumbled into the room and against one of the drawers. A searing pain rushed from his leg up his spine, making him get almost nauseous, while he clutched his leg with one hand, gritting his teeth and supporting himself with the other on the drawer.

"Um. Hello? You okay?" the sudden voice made House give another little start, followed by the heat of pain once again shooting into his head. The pain directly unloading itself in anger about whoever caused it, House turned around with a most furious glare, yet, what he saw made his anger drop and be replaced by confused surprise.

In the consulting room stood a family, all three of them looked very hard on the narrow border between poor and beggar, yet the really curious sight was their little boy, a really thin, short, pale little kid in some way too large, old wheelchair. Teaching by the nonexistent muscles on his legs, the boy probably never had taken a real step in his life. House blinked at them and they stared back at him, until the father, who turned out to be the one, who had spoken up before, said:

"Timothy is ill."

"Obviously." House just returned.

"No, I mean, yes, but he is more ill mow. Maybe he caught a flu, he has hardly any appetite, he is hot and then cold and he sleeps a lot." the father explained.

"I don't feel well, sir." the boy agreed in the most sympathetic voice House had ever heard. God, Cameron and Wilson would probably bash in their heads to care about the little wimp.

"Yeees, and that might not have to do with his...?" House cocked a brow, the parents stayed silent.

"What was he diagnosed with before?" House added.

The parents looked at each other, then the mother said in a shy voice:

"He can't walk. He never could."

"That is a fact no diagnosis." House started becoming a little impatient.

The parents again were silent, looking at each other and then the floor.

"Are you telling me, your kid can't walk and you never went to a doctor to maaaaaybe have it checked? He could have a severe genetic disorder or be misshaped organically, you could have killed the kid, it actually is a real big surprise to me he is still alive! I've seen a lot, but you two seriously are on top of all idiocy! Why? Are you in some religious sect or two if these let-nature-do-it freaks?" House yelled.

"We have no insurance, okay!" the father finally admitted, "We love our boy, so much, but we can't afford all those things. Timmy is a happy boy the way he is, please just treat him for the flu and we are gone again." the father pleaded, probably already fearing his son being taken away.

"I don't think so," House just returned, limping to the boy and kneeing down in front of him with a little flinch.

"What are you talking about? You can't take aw..." the father began, but was interrupted by House.

"Shut up!" he hissed "Your son is having a severe epileptic seizure."

"But. But he's not having any cramps." the mother gasped confused.

"We're not in a movie, not all seizures show in cramps. If you ever would have gone to a doctor with the kid, they might have told you. Who knows how many he already had! You definitely are going nowhere today." House stated, getting back to his feet and calling out an emergency.


End file.
